Perforated
by The Taloned Merlin
Summary: At times, Allen doesn't understand Kanda.


A/n: This was meant to be far from slashy, but I guess it crossed into the boundary of bromance, at least.

Warnings: Some OOC-ness on Allen's part.

Disclaimer: I do not own DGM.

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Perforated

Allen leans over the bed, lips pursed. Rhode says, "They can't see you. They don't know you're here," but Allen does not reply. He tentatively reaches out with his right hand, towards the two boys resting against each other; Alma's head is on Kanda's shoulder, and their hands are held loosely together, resembling a cocoon that has recently burst open, empty of its previous inhabitant.

Though he has been watching Kanda's memories for a long while now, he has not yet seen a moment as tender as this, and he draws closer; he can see the way Kanda's lashes brush against his young cheek, the way his not-quite-there fringe kisses his brow. His eyes shift to Alma, whose mouth is slack and whose hair is untidy from shifting around too much.

"Must be painful," Rhode puts in impassively.

She is referring to the fact that Alma had lost his leg about an hour ago. He had been walking back to his room from another Innocence testing session when...well, Allen doesn't like to remember it.

But when he squints to discern the shapes beneath the soft blue blanket, he can tell the leg has regenerated. As usual. Allen has more or less lost count of the number of times he has seen the boys' limbs fall off. It is gruesome and ugly and absolutely terrifying, but what disturbs him most is the fact that neither of the two make a fuss about it.

This is how they are _meant_ to live.

Kanda had scurried to his friend (or _the annoying fool_, as he called Alma), lifted him with relative ease for his size, and hoisted him onto his own bed. Within minutes, Kanda had pulled the blanket over him and got him a bowl of rice and beans from the kitchens. Allen had watched with surprise as Kanda actually fed Alma with his own hands, veiling his concern with curses a child his age should have no knowledge of, and he felt...an odd surge of jealousy.

No, he does not hate Alma. He can't do that. Alma is not one who can easily be hated; he is always smiling, even through his agony, and he has a good thing to say about everyone; his eyes gleam like warm, spice-flecked honey. He reminds Allen of autumn days, of ripe, sticky apples swaying on tall trees, of dappled sunlight on snow-dusted fields.

And Kanda loves him. That is so easy to comprehend, even if the boy denies it with all the vehemence of a winter storm. Allen can see it in Kanda's dark eyes. Those eyes that are so like abandoned, frost-bitten battlefields but which thaw and come to life when they meet Alma's, unearthing hidden affection and respect that runs deep as underground caverns.

They are are so different: one is like the sun rising in the sky, bathing whole oceans in gold, while the other is like the pale moon, shy and elusive and dancing amid grey clouds, drawing its light only from its counterpart and yet being able to reflect it because of its very blankness.

Even so, Allen cannot help but crease his brow at the sight of Kanda Yuu being so...gentle. What he would give to see Kanda brush Lenalee's hair back so tenderly, or to openly state his concern for Lavi, or to tell Komui he need not worry so. Why? Why can Kanda not give his heart so freely to his comrades as he did to Alma?

Are they not enough? Does Lenalee not hold Kanda as dear as a brother? Does Allen not care for him enough, despite even the latter's rough words with him?

Allen tries to touch Kanda's head; his hand passes right through.

_Is it guilt?..._

"Kanda..."

As if in response, Kanda slowly opens his eyes and blinks, gaze bleary from recent sleep, and Allen has to smile, for the boy is, right now, the picture of innocence. And as Allen knows well, Kanda is anything but innocent.

Yet there are many things Allen does not know about Kanda – or rather, would not have known if he had not been looking (_spying_) into his memories: that Kanda enjoys the feel of flower petals on his cheeks, that he prefers sandals to shoes, that he really, really can't stand the cold.

All of a sudden Alma stirs, and his hair feathers against Kanda's neck, and the latter _squeals_ and scrambles away, swatting at the other wildly, and ending up a tangled heap on the cold floor.

_Oh, so he's ticklish at the neck. Who would have thought..._

Alma leans precariously over the edge of the mattress, and says quite innocuously, "Yuu, what are you doing?"

And Kanda leaps up and shakes a fist at Alma. "You! How dare you ask me that, you stupid idiot! I let you sleep on my bed and you just tip me over!"

"I didn't tip you over; you fell," states Alma simply, sliding off the bed. "And honestly, Yuu, control that temper of yours; it's gonna get you in trouble one day."

Allen is amazed at how Alma isn't afraid of Kanda at all. Kanda can be unduly harsh and rude – in fact, he usually is – and even Allen never seriously confronts him about some of his unpleasant quirks. The thing is, Allen is afraid. He is afraid of losing Kanda, as absurd as that sounds. Because as many as times they fight, as many times as Allen yells, "Ba-Kanda, the name's Allen!" and as many times as they claw at each other's throats, Allen's always considered their friendship to be a bit special. Different from the others. Yes, practically everyone in the Order is Allen's friend, and all of them adore him, but Kanda...

"Shut up," says Kanda, and leaves it at that. Kanda is the only one who ever stands up to _Allen_. The only one who tells him: "Don't be weak; you said you were going to protect them, so do it," or, "Leave them; they're dead. Can you bring them back? You want another tragedy?" Because these words, while painful, are true. Because Allen is fallible, human, and none save Kanda understand this. Allen used to think that, because Kanda spoke honestly with him, protected him, pulled him up when he was broken, he was special to Kanda. In a strange way, of course, but special nonetheless.

Allen had been so sure he was the closest thing Kanda ever had to a friend. How naïve and utterly arrogant he was. Obviously, Kanda had a past. Everyone depends on _someone_ at some point in their lives.

When Allen sees Alma he knows Kanda can never love anyone as much as him.

He watches the two boys straighten the bedsheets and then trundle off, presumably to the room with the artificial apostles. To more of _them_.

"Let's go," says Rhode. Her eyes narrow when she glances at Allen.

* * *

When Allen barges into the heated fight between Kanda and Alma, he knows he is being stupid. This is not his fight. It is not his place to step between the two, complicate things further.

But Allen is selfish. He wants Kanda to acknowledge him, to thank him for caring to such a great degree. For some unfathomable reason, he wants to be first in Kanda's dark, violently aching heart. So even when Kanda pushes his blade through Allen's abdomen, Allen forces himself not to be angry, even though he wants to scream and kick and punch the other in frustration and in unimaginable pain. Yet, he cannot keep the bitterness from tainting his voice when he says weakly, "Look at Alma's face."

* * *

_Can't you just respect my wishes and your dignity?_ Allen wants to scream. There is no reason for Kanda to be here. Yet here he stands, brow creased with concern; there is confusion and annoyance in his eyes. His sun-warmed hair is dishevelled, his chest heaving from chasing Allen across rooftops and crowded streets. Mugen is in his hand, red-stained and glinting in the light, and Allen cringes as he remembers how painful it was to be impaled with it.

They both want answers, Allen realises.

He raises his head slightly and spits, "Kanda, I just don't get you."

And with that one simple sentence, the dam between them breaks, and words and feelings rush out in tumultuous waves too long ensconced in silence. Because that's what Alma does, right? If he wants explanations, he asks questions that can't just be evaded and cast aside like old boots.

Then Allen looks at Kanda's face, and he knows, instantly, that Alma is dead. For real, this time. There is suffering in Kanda's gaze, and Allen can practically see the guilt pricking and squeezing the latter's heart. Allen does not know for whom these emotions are meant. But there is gratitude as well, and hope, and relief. Directed at Allen.

_That's right, Kanda_, Allen thinks grimly. _Because Alma existed then. I exist now._

_End._

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I'm not too happy with the ending, but meh. Review?


End file.
